


This Poisonous Heart

by CelesteExTenebris



Series: Love Endures All Things [1]
Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Angst, Drunkenness, Feelings and confusion, First Kiss, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, canonical levels of repression, this goes from angst to drunk confusion to more angst and finally fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:41:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27919159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteExTenebris/pseuds/CelesteExTenebris
Summary: John Irving is a man haunted by the belief that his love will condemn the soul of the man he holds closest to his heart.orJohnny boy is very soft for Ned, but very hard towards himself.
Relationships: Lt John Irving/Lt Edward Little
Series: Love Endures All Things [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2044396
Comments: 11
Kudos: 19





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is the prequel to my story With Healing Hands
> 
> I hope you like it :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which John is haunted by his emotions late at night

John Irving had gone to bed early this evening. It was not that he didn't care about the other lieutenants' company; indeed, he cared a lot about the little group that sat together each day after sunset and gave their daily life onboard the ice-bound Terror a sense of comfort. There was nothing quite like having a place that he could return to, _his_ little place in this distorted world, where we would sit and draw whatever memories of home came to his mind while listening to tales that seemed far too fantastic to be true. No, the problem that drove him further and further into his self-imposed solitude was of a wholly different nature. He cared _too much_. 

It had been months since he first noticed something strange growing within. Not fear, not anger, not even despair - in short, none of the things he told himself he was supposed to feel in a situation like theirs. Instead, it was something that could only have blossomed from a darker, deeper place within him. A bottomless pit of chaos, confusion and sleepless nights, leaving him in a state of turmoil that he had not thought himself capable of just half a year ago. 

He slowly breathed out as his eyes fixated on the wooden ceiling above him. He could hear the creaking ice from the outside, the sizzling of the candlewick on his night table and the remote voices of his fellow officers from the other end of the corridor. It was impossible to make out any distinct words, but he could clearly match each mumble and laugh to a face he knew well. The calm voice of Lieutenant Hodgson, who spoke few but carefully chosen words. The loud cackle of Thomas Blanky, who was probably coming up with the most creative vulgarity that John had never heard before. And then, the deep, somewhat grave hum of Edward Little.

John closed his eyes and prayed that it would not happen again. But before the first lieutenant could have finished the first sentence, John felt that familiar, painful rush once more, emerging from his stomach and sending sparks through his whole chest. There was nothing, _nothing_ he would rather have done than to walk out of the door that hid him from the world and sit down next to the man whose voice alone could leave his heart tingling like it had never done before. This was also the reason why he didn't.

John Irving was no fool. He had known what these feelings were, the first time he felt them. Too evident were they to be explained or ignored away. They were exactly what he should have experienced before, in the company of those fine young ladies he had met and danced with at Edinburgh's grandest balls, but always failed to do. After the initial shock, he had understood that this would change everything and that he would curse himself each night from then on. And curse himself, he did. He would call himself foul names until he buried his face in his pillow and began to doubt his sanity - but that was gone anyway, wasn't it? There was no other explanation for a perverted mind like his, safe for insanity. It did not help to bite his lips until they almost bled. It did not help to cross his arms over the heart he did not want to listen to. The eyes of Edward Little would appear before him once all distraction was gone. They would light up in a smile John didn't deserve to see, they would hold his gaze until they saw everything that had stayed so carefully hidden inside, until they would finally be overcast with understanding. And then, nothing but rejection would be left in them. Now that was something he _did_ deserve. 

Many a night, he had lain awake, his hands folded over his forehead and his mind immersed in silent prayer to the God that he forsake with every heartbeat. At first, he had prayed to be rid of this daze. _'Why, dear heavens, must I be like this? Is it not enough to be on a voyage without return?'_ But as time went on and his unspeakable desires only grew stronger, he had begun to ask to be found out. No, he _begged_ to have his secret revealed to the other man so that he would see him for the miscreation that he was and turn away from him for good. 

Of course, he would never find it within him to confess, not if a hundred years had passed, because his heart would shatter like a block of ice pierced by a pickaxe. The look of disgust in Edward Little's face, which would naturally cloud his features if such depravities were to be confessed, would be the end of him. But it was exactly what he wished upon himself. Would it not be a relief, to let go and be broken at last? It would surely be better than smothering his own thoughts night after night. Doing so, however, seemed to be the last shred of control that he had left. 

John had learned that men like him were a mistake of nature since he was old enough to understand. The pastor and his parents had said so when two married men from his parish were found in bed together and were taken to prison. This was proof enough that worldly courts were just as strict on the subject as the heavenly one, and it had been ingrained in him then that only men of the cruelest, most lecherous kind would perform such acts on one another. The Articles of War even stated that men found to indulge in sodomy were to be punished like those who committed the gravest of all sins - murder. They were to be sentenced to death. John had attended enough sunday services to know that he had lost his place in heaven months ago - the best thing he could do now was to avoid entering hell before his time.

The candlelight flickered as John shifted in bed. Today was one of the very bad nights. He was painfully aware of his body, of the layers of clothes on his skin and the way his blanket weighed down on his legs.

"I am so sorry." he whispered into the empty room, the last syllable trailing off into a silent sob as he felt his blood rush to his lower regions. The weight of his sins brought tears to his eyes in moments like these, when his body revealed it all so shamelessly. How could he betray Edward Little like this? The tears continued to stream slowly down his face as he turned to the side, hands shaking but safely placed above the blanket. Since his feelings for the other man had grown stronger, John had abstained from the temptation of touching himself altogether. He did not trust his mind any longer and feared what pictures it might conjure up when alone with himself. Never, never would he yield to this willingly, no matter how much his body longed for it, longed to be touched gently by rough hands in places he dared not name. Lieutenant Little was not merely the victim of his sick desires, he was also his friend, and John would rather walk out into the snow and let the cold take him than to abuse his friend in filthy fantasies. 

The pictures that sometimes flashed before his closed eyes while drifting off to sleep were bad enough - soft touches between the two men, foreheads leaned together, the fleeting image of strong hands cupping his face. These hurt more than anything else, for they showed him glimpses of an intimacy that could never be, not even here, not even at the end of the world. The more he tried to push them off, the more forceful they came back to undo the poor man lost in his impossible fancies. One week ago, he had awoken in the middle of the night and still half-believed that Little lay sleeping behind him, gently pressed to the younger man's back, just as he had done in his dream.

A small whimper escaped his lips. How could something that wrong make him feel so fragile when he longed for a touch he could never have? How could this lust pretend to be something far more innocent?

 _'I would not hurt you like this, I would never do a thing to cause you any harm - body and soul alike.'_ John thought, and there was a strange kind of comfort in the knowledge that his pain could keep another man safe.

He fell asleep after his sobbing had finally quieted down, eyes still watery, barely noticing his sleepy wish that at least in tonights' dreams, he would not be alone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a birthday celebration is held and John gets very confused

"For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow  
For he's a jolly good fellow, and so say all of us!"

After the fifth rehearsal of the song, which had gotten progressively louder and out of tune as time went on, the whole company burst into laughter. Captain Fitzjames bowed theatrically to each of the men that were sat around the dinner table and rose his half-emptied glass to toast the little choir.

"A most charming rendition, men!" he chuckled while steadying himself. The wine in said glass had already been refilled three our four times, and none of the officers were far behind him. "On a more serious note however, I really have to thank you. You're making this a very special day for me, as unusual as the circumstances are."

The remark was met with smiles and affirmative nods by everyone.

"When we left Greenhithe two years ago, I expected to have crossed the passage at this point, celebrating our expeditions' victory rather than one single man's birthday. I can't say that I wouldn't have preferred it that way, we all know that we long to put an end to this. But today has filled me with more hope, gentlemen. If there's any crew that I want to know by my side in these trying times, it's you. I see cohesion and strength here, and I see men that will be celebrated for succeding where other men have failed before. England has not seen the last of us, I stand by my conviction that she will have us back with the next thaw." Fitzjames took a moment to look around and meet everyone's eyes as if to assure them that he meant every word he had said. "We will drink to this."

A cheer went up as the captain finished his speech, downed his last sip of wine and beckoned the stewards to fetch the carafe. Jopson and Hoar quickly swarmed around the table and filled the empty glasses up once more.

John Irving lifted his glass to aid the steward and meet him halfway. He had stepped onboard HMS Erebus a few hours ago alongside Captain Crozier, Mr. Blanky and the two lieutenants Hodgson and Little. They had brought a few makeshift presents for the second-in-command with them: a nice pair of engraved gold buttons, a book about the Battle of Chinkiang that Crozier had found in one of his shelves, as well as as an old bottle of brandy. 

John had begun to take a few polite nips of the beverage when it was served with the first course at the beginning of the birthday celebration. By now, he was completely inebriated. Not that he had gulped it down by the litre like an incorrigible drunkard, he was just not as used to the effects of alcohol as all other men on this ship (or in this world for that matter) seemed to be. Usually he would have paced himself and declined refills after his second drink. But since nothing quite seemed to fit the description of "normal" anymore, he had decided to tag along for once. Forgetting about all of his worries for at least this one evening seemed like a tempting idea after all.

He would have loved to sing some more. Everyone had joined in when John struck up the song earlier, which had filled him with an almost childish amount of joy. Singing had always made him feel better, especially when he did it with friends. 

_'There is a special connection that music brings to people.'_ he thought to himself, and this thought put a slight smile on his lips. There was happiness in music, understanding, even friendship.

Meanwhile, the conversation had turned to the Esquimaux people. The line between leisure and duty was a thin one at the tables of the navy, and today was no exception.

"But how will we know that she doesn't run off and warn her people about us? Maybe she'll have a whole war party behind her the next time she returns. Who knows how these people deal with strangers." Of course, Le Vesconte was speaking about Lady Silence, the only encounter they had had with the natives so far.

"The Netsilik are not a hostile tribe. If we treat the lady right, which should be a given, their life-long experience in these regions could be the key to our survival. They know how to find game, how to fish and how to isolate against the cold. To scare them away would be the gravest mistake." Crozier said, the only one of them who still looked quite unfazed by the wine. His cheeks were coloured red, but this must have been owed to the temperatures that could not be escaped in the far North, not even in the belly of the ship that they called home.

"But we must have scared her already, terribly so. She has seen us from our worst side. I am not sure _how_ she would describe her previous encounters with us to her people, and I do not think I would like to learn it." Little added. 

John sat two places beside him, Hodgson separating them, but this did not stop him from growing increasingly conscious of the man with the worried expression on his face. He had grown more silent and withdrawn these last months, not unlike John, although they were carrying burdens of a different kind. John cursed his own predicament once more. While he was avoiding his friends' company, the poor man had been desperately in need of a friendly shoulder to lean on. He was probably still blaming himself for the abduction of poor Lady Silence by that godless troublemaker Hickey a few weeks ago, even though he didn't have a thing to do with the whole incident. Edward was like that. Seeing the sadness in his eyes now hurt John, and even though he could make an educated guess as to why the older lieutenant's emotions upset him so, he allowed himself to feel this way tonight. Caring was no sin, on the contrary. This part of him was still good. Even better for it, maybe, as impossible as that sounded...

He leaned forward, ignored the rush that went through his body as Little's eyes met his, and said: "We will have to convince her of our kindness then. I believe that we can still do so. The men... most of them, I do not think that they wish her ill. We need not worry about them with the right guidance. And that, they have." He let the smile that he had stifled for so long light up his face, and when the edge of Little's lip twitched up in response, all the warmth of the world spread through John's chest and made him feel even dizzier than he already did.

The others went on to share their knowledge about the Netsilik and their way of life - mostly stories they had overheard Lord-knows-where, but Crozier and Blanky were quick to correct any misconceptions.

John stayed silent for the next minutes, somehow managing to feel good and bad about himself at the same time, all of it mixed with an absurd amount of giddiness. Finally, finally he had let himself speak to Edward - no; Lieutenant Little - again, and that alone made the whole world glow and the temperature rise. As he reached the bottom of the next glass, it occured to him that he had lost count somewhere along the way, and that he felt alarmingly indifferent to this fact.

When he realized that George was addressing him, the fog slowly lifted from his mind and left him staring with a dumbfounded expression. 

The blonde lieutenant grinned and repeated: "D'you mind switching places? I was talking to the good doctor about the medical advantage of leeches, and screaming over your head is getting quite bothersome over time." He gestured to the other side of John where McDonald was sitting.

"Sure." John slurred, somewhat glad that he had missed the last minutes of the conversation.

They tried to navigate their way through the narrow room for a while, knocking over a glass in the process, until they had sorted themselves out and sank into their new seat. Only when John turned his head towards the right, he came to the realization that Edward Little was right beside him now.

His initial thought upon this discovery was a word that he had avoided to use all his life.

_'Fuck.'_

No matter how drunk he was, he was still sensible enough of the fact that he could not trust his mouth to form coherent, non-incriminating sentences anymore.

_'Don't you dare speak your mind, don't you dare say a thing to reveal that you are but half the man he believes you to be...'_

"John! How are you faring on this evening?" Edward greeted him, his voice a bit louder than usual and his cheeks rosy. Of course, the wine had gotten to him, too, but he still cut a far better figure than John did.  
"...'m fine. Most fine. Good company." The words he wanted to say were quite clear in his mind, yet it was a whole other business to bring them forth.

_'Oh, John.'_ was probably the last coherent thought that the respectable part of his brain managed to conjure up before it went to sleep for the evening.

"Ah, I see." Edward grinned, leaned back and pat him gently on the shoulder.

John felt the last bit of resistance melt at the touch, and before he knew it, he found himself immersed in deep conversation, trying to make up for all the times when he forbade them both the comfort that their friendship could have given. Oh, they had been there for each other many times, back then when two tired lieutenants could sit down in the wardroom and discuss their fears of circumstances far beyond their control. Back then when opening one's heart held promises of strength, not chaos. They had been very close and John had thanked God in his nighttime prayers for sending him a friend like Edward - until _it_ happened, of course, and John would not show up to listen and be listened to anymore.

Now however, all of his well-meant reserve had dissolved into thin air. Quite frankly, sitting here beside Edward, sharing however insignificant words they had to offer and feeling that traitorous, heavenly turmoil in his chest once more was everything that he still wanted to care about. And Edward, he laughed, _he laughed again_ , and John would have marched into hell with blazing colours if it only meant that he could make this man laugh one more time.

He was aware how little sense his words made (whyever they were debating the difference between birthdays in the Arctic and at home, he did not know), but the words wanted to come out and _by God_ , he was no saint, he could only hold them back for so long.

"... what I'm saying is that this is the most splendid festivity I ever attended. A man can find light in the darkest place when he lets himself be guided towards redemption, Mr. Lieutenant." John closed his speech with a satisfied nod, glad that he had remembered to add some intelligent sounding pious advice to his babble. Why he spoke so highly of their icy prison, he was not so sure of that himself. Then again, John had always been one to look for the bright side to every desperate situation, and he _was_ having a jolly good time at this table.

"We'll have one for you then." Edward laughed as he fiddled with the empty chocolate wrapping paper in his hands.

Wistfully, John teared his eyes away from those hands - strong, masculine, and weirdly gentle with that paper - and looked up. "Hm?" 

"A proper Arctic birthday celebration. 33 years of John Irving, if I'm not mistaken? I say that's quite the occasion, old lad."

"I... you remember?" John felt his jaw drop open at the revelation. He had never been one to invite attention for his own person, it never felt quite right to him. Because of that, he had always been quite content to pass his birthdays working on deck or immersed in his favourite scripture passages in those few hours of idle time. Edward, however, had somehow managed to figure out his date of birth one year ago and surprised him with the first gift he had received in his years of service: a beautiful brazen spyglass that rested on John's bed table every night since then.

Images flooded his mind, some of them memories, some mere dreaming visions: Edward handing him the present wrapped in sailcoth, accepting the gloves John offered him when his own had frayed, holding him in his arms as they fell asleep.

_'Oh, to make a memory of that last picture, too...'_

It was Fitzjames' sneering voice that woke John from his ponderings. "Then we should hope that any rum will be left by that time, or else it will be a very dry occasion."

"God forbid! I'm sure we can get our hands on some spirits from our Esqui friends before we run out." Hodgson's roaring laughter revealed him to be the second most inebriated of the lot.

"Netsilik booze, George? What do you expect them to brew it from? Caribou droppings?" Blanky rasped and took another swig, seemingly satisfied with the disgusted groans that this mental image provoked all around the table.

John meanwhile, yielding the urge to cast a quick glance to his right again, was surprised to find Edward's eyes already on him, squinted in laughter and wrinkled beautifully at the edges. His own smile was only deepened by this, probably a bit too warm and endearing to be ascribed to the general cheerfulness alone, but such details were far beyond his control now. It was good to be by Edward's side once more, good to laugh with him, good to simply _be_. God, how he had missed this, how cruel of his mind to make an enemy of himself...

"Just wait until James begins with the charades, you'll have forgotten about the beverages once you see him imitating a bird." Le Vesconte, knowing that he was allowed to take such liberties with his captain after their time together in China, flapped his own arms up and down in a theatrical manner. 

Not even Fitzjames himself could keep a straight face as he shrugged in defeat. "Although I recall my performance being far more discernable than yours. What was it, Dundy? A mule? Some poor creature in pain? I still can't tell to this day."

If anyone hadn't gone half mad with laughter before, the next minutes certainly did the trick. All sorts of parlour games and their respective icebound versions were debated, and it really made some kind of comical sense to them, then. Blanky's proposal - a light-hearted game of "Stick the tail to the Tuunbaq" - decidedly took the prize of the most cheered idea.

"Hide and seek on the ship, George?" Crozier said when he had partly regained his composure after hearing the lieutenant's suggestion, and exaggeratedly put his hand to his forehead as if in pain. "The men will surely think we've all gone insane when they find us hiding in the bilge!"

"Your hiding place must be quite lacking when they stumble over you down there in the first place." Edward's remark had John break into another fit of giggles, all while his thoughts were preoccupied with the pretty picture they were painting: Edward and him, running through the lower deck in search of a hiding spot, squattind down side by side and holding their breath. He knew how foolish it was, but dear heavens, he _wanted_ it like he had never wanted another thing in this big wide world, and who was this stern Lieutenant Irving to keep it from John anyway?

Whatever it was that separated the lieutenant from the man, it returned at a blow as John turned his head and came upon a scenery that almost knocked the air from his lungs. There was a hand, intimately placed on Edward's knee, and it was _his_. Why it was there, how long it had rested there and how it had ended up there in the first place, he did not know. Panic arose in his chest and replaced drunken recklessness within seconds.

The world blurred around him as if the Erebus had sunk, and maybe it had done so, cracked and fallen into the bleakness down below, their ship punished in the wake of one man's sins like the destruction of the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah for their resident's wrongdoings.

He looked back into Edward's eyes, frozen in time and unable to move any limb now, and found his eyes staring back with an intensity he had never known them to possess.

_'There's disgust in his eyes now, it's hidden behind this inscrutable expression, for sure...'_

Still, his hand would not move as the voices at the very edge of his perception continued their idle banter. 

_'Can you not see, we were headed for perdition all along?'_

Perhaps every soul on this ship was laden with sins they dared not name and therefor sent to face their selves at the end of all things, stripped bare and put on display - before they would be called forth for the final judgement. Except, not him of course, Edward could be nothing but good, there was not the slightest doubt in John's mind about that.

_'Dear Edward..._

_See me for what I am from now on...'_

He swallowed hard as his hand finally fell, down, only downwards from here.

_'A sinner...'_

He dropped his gaze onto the empty plate before him, empty as his mind that could only stutter and scream wordless defamations at him, and all the while he could still feel Edward's eyes on him, searching for excuses that didn't exist, burning into his skin without pity.

John could but stare at the blank fish bones on the china plate, a hue whiter than the debris on it. A rotten thing amidst such grandiose hubris.

His cheeks burned hot as he blinked back a single tear that never left his eye. The others were far too invested in their conversation to take notice, thank God for that, but Edward would surely see it, wouldn't he?

The clock ticked on mercilessly. Laughter, more remote now than ever, passe by John's ears unheard. Minutes dragged on into a drowsy kind of insanity until he could barely keep his head up. He was still drunk, and he was so horribly tired. Tired of trying, tired of failing, and most of all tired of being someone he was not allowed to be. Once more he slipped into daydreams that he couldn't recall mere minutes later. His weary body demanded to be released from the straight posture that his uniform willed him into, and to be leaned against Edward's shoulder that looked so safe and comfortable and oh so very forbidden.

He was that deep in his fantasies that he only realized that Edward had stood up when he felt him tapping on his shoulder.

"It's time we went back to the Terror now, John." he said with a calm voice while he put his coat on.

John wondered for a moment, then cleared his throat as it came back to him: Of course, he was designated to leave the party around midnight to return to his ship and stand the next watch. The others would stay far into the smallest hours, likely taking up quarters until the effects of the drink had worn off. The petty officers were trusted well enough to leave the Terror in their hands for the evening, but to have no senior officer seen on deck for nearly 24 hours was naturally out of the question. 

"But _I'm_ s'pposed to go." John simply answered, blinking up at the man towering over him.

Of all the things he didn't expect, it was a kind smile that answered his confused mutterings.

"I'll come with you. Thought you could do with some company."

While his mind tried to make reason of what he had just heard, John showed no inclination to rise from his seated position yet. Instead, he was appaled to find himself staring in silence once again - something that happened decidedly too often these days, and he did not like it.

"Y... yes?" he eventually uttered, and that word was barely audible even to himself. "Yes, very well." he repeated a moment later, barely more convincing, and rose to his unsteady feet. All of a sudden, he felt painfully sober again, and it began to dawn on him what he had gotten himself into.

_'Fuck.'_ he thought once more as he put his coat on. His choice of words was the least of his concerns now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which confessions are made

The sky had gone dark as the short nighttime around this time of the year stretched from one horizon to another. The steady waltz of the northern lights and the moon's reflections on the crystalline surface gave the scenery a surreal feeling - a white and blue fairytale under the snow globe, although it was a grim one, John knew that. His breath was coming in little clouds as he marched beside Edward, the longest part of their journey still before them.

His companion was doing his best to keep up a friendly conversation, although he had do to most of it himself. Even though John was in his right mind again, or perhaps because of it, every well-meant word from Edward's mouth that was adressed at him felt as if it was a stolen treasure that was not meant for his ears. 

After the first ten minutes of their march through the bizarre formations of the age-old ice, at least his tormented mind had gone silent and only left the pinpricks in his heart to remind him of the love he could never have.

And love it was, he had finally called the obstinate emotion by its name when they had stepped outside of the Erebus and Edward caught the stumbling John by his shoulder before he could bury his face in the snow. The word had spilled from his heart straight to his mind then.

Love it was, and with naming it came the painful realization that he, John Irving, would never in his life so much as get a glimpse of the only thing he had ever truly wanted.

He walked on in silence.

"You know, John, I'm glad you're coming with me. I fear I would have become lost otherwise. I had one or two drinks this evening, and I fear they have gone to my head a bit." Edward joked. Both knew that it was actually John he was actually talking about, and that there was no ill will in those words.

"I would have found the way back." John said, his voice muffled by the scarves around his neck. Even though every man's cheeks were reddened by the cold within seconds, he felt the need to hide the blush that was caused by something entirely different.

"I'm sure of it, and yet I wished to see you safely returned with my own eyes. A clouded mind is nowhere near the gravest danger out here." Edward cleared his throat. "And besides, I prefer your company over theirs. These last months, we've had such few chances to spend time together."

John swallowed. So Edward _had_ noticed. Of course he had.

He nodded his head with half a smile, yet avoided meeting Edward's eyes. His steps quickened on their own, and the other man followed.

"I... I have noticed your absence lately."

"It has been... busy." John could only long for them to reach the Terror as fast as they could, so that he could stand watch in the still of the night and later return to his lonely, safe cabin and faint into a dreamless sleep. It was awfully insolent of his to give such curt answers, but his brain refused to fabricate any longer sentences for his mouth to speak.

"I know, and it has been a hard time for many of us." Edward looked at him with _that_ kind of glance, and it convinced John that stormy seas lay ahead.

Before he could say anything, Edward continued: "I know that something's wrong, John. Please don't deny it. I only want you to know... if you wish to confide in me, I am always here to listen. I hope you know that."

Another stab to his chest, to be offered such tempting shoulder to cry on. Short word fragments like "save me", "afraid" and "hopeless" were flashing through John's mind as his steps were getting faster yet, and they too felt like searing hot daggers to his senses. If he continued like this, he would be running soon, and he _wanted_ to run, far away from this godforsaken place and never return. How strange, to be fleeing from the very thing one craves the most...

"And I hope that you view me as a man worthy of your trust." Edward added, his voice gone punishingly soft.

_'Please, my dear, oh please, I implore you - do not speak another word of hope. These hurt me so terribly, far more than any insult ever could.'_

John was walking a few feet in front of Edward now, and while he knew that such behaviour would only serve to raise more questions, he could not stop himself. 

Stubborn, filthy tears were flowing from his eyes and froze before they fell to the ground. He did not bother to blink them away.

One foot in front of the other, faster and faster through the darkness that he wished to be swallowed by, until he heard another's steps closing up to him and was finally brought to a halt by a hand that grabbed his shoulder forcefully.

Breathing was almost becoming too hard as John pressed his eyes shut and crossed his arms before his chest as if he could hide behind them. As if they were any kind of shield.

"Will you not tell me what it is, John? I can help you, if you only tell me what's troubling you."

John shivered, and it was not from the cold. With a shake of his head, he turned around to face the other man. Just as he did so, another tear welled up and refracted the light, and for a heartbeat the world around Edward glistened with the colours of the Aurora. When the effect subsided, he looked straight into the sad eyes of Edward Little that were full of concern now.

"Will it be enough if I say that I _can simply not tell you_ , no matter how much I want to?" John whispered, for fear that his voice might crack and betray him if he were to speak any louder.

Edward's hand was still placed on John's shoulder, and it remained there. He could not feel it through the layers of cotton and wool, not really, and still it sent a wave of shivers through his body. It was almost too much, not even to feel, but to _know_ him that close, and John almost recoiled because Edward should not touch him, should not touch something that spoiled...

But just this one time, he could not pry himself away. He could confess, here and now, and that thought alone made his skin tingle with excitement. It would finally be over then, no more undeserved compassion and foolish hopes. But of course that was never allowed to happen, and if it was for Edward's sake alone.

So instead of pouring his heart our, he shook his head with a genuine smile that carried and kept all that he was unable to say.

Edward, however, was not that easy to please. His brows furrowed and his feet shuffled impatiently. "Please know that I will not judge you, no matter what afflicts you. I remember the time when you did the same for me."

John, too, remembered the day that Edward was referring to as if it was yesterday. It had been the evening after the ice had trapped them, when Edward's thoughts had first showed him a grim vision of a future that exposed him as a man unfit for his position. John had learned then that he was not the only soul aboard this ship that feared another thing more than death. Still, he was shaken by the notion that a man like Edward, whom he held in such high esteem, could think so little of himself, and did not leave him that night until he managed to make him smile again.

_'I would follow you if we lost them, if command were to fall into your hands. I have never doubted you and your abilities as a leader of men on this whole journey. And neither will I do it tomorrow.'_

Images of that conversation were reeling through his mind now that they stood that close to each other for the second time in their lifes. But it was _his_ turn to pour his heart out now, and it contained a far more damning secret than that of his senior officer.

"Good Lord, John, if you keep this maddening silence I might have to shake you until you finally come out with it." Edward pleaded, looking at John's tears as if they were causing him pyhsical pain. The sight hurt John infinitely, and yet, he could but stand and watch the man he had carried in his heart for so long now growing increasingly desperate. 

"That is, unless..." Edward's eyes dimmed and his lips parted for a second before he bit them, drawing John's attention to them for a split second. "Unless it is something that I have done..."

Just like that, John finally snapped out of his speechlessness to banish those concerns from Edward's mind. "No! No, not at all. You have not done a thing to hurt, insult or frighten me, not in your whole life. And you never could. But believe me when I say that what burdens me... I promise... no, I swear: You would think me less for it."

"Never." Edward answered immediately. He needed no time for consideration. His voice had become so warm, the only thing in this eternal icy wasteland above freezing. The knowledge that he was so sure of his faith in the younger man endeared him even more to John's fast beating heart, if such a thing was even possible.

_'He knows.'_ Later, John could not tell why he began to suspect it in this very moment, but that one word - _never_ \- turned his whole world upside down. _'But does he know everything?'_

Just as a shy little smile was stealing across his face, John noticed a light to his left. A sudden flash against the cool dark sky, and then another one. Both men turned their heads in the direction where the lights were coming from.

Their mouths fell open at the sight. A cluster of falling stars was roaming the night above their heads, glistening like diamonds and dragging their tails like sledges through the landscape of the northern lights.

Reverent silence had settled over the scenery; the kind that was only felt at Christmas Eve or the first snowfall in a child's life.

"Wish for something." Edward said after timeless minutes had passed, during which they simply stood side by side and watched the spectacle. 

The feeling that yet a lot more was said in the silence was unshakable to John. And even though his mind protested that the mere thought was folly, a little voice which some called hope began to whisper to him.

_Could it be...? No, that was absolutely impossible! But why, dear God, did it feel like it then?_

His heart was racing as fast as it had never done before when he replied in the same hushed voice: "I wish that my dreams do not come true." while his eyes stayed fixed on the wonders of the heavens above them.

From the corner of his eyes, he saw that Edward had turned towards him once again. A hand was lightly placed on his arm to draw his attention to the man beside him, and John complied.

What he encountered in the tell-tale face of Edward Little were disarmingly beautiful dark brown eyes that gave every beat of his heart away.

John fell. Fell, because the ground under his feet had given away. And he was rising, far above this grim place, even higher than the starry lights that had gifted them this moment.

His breath came ragged as he tried to make reason of what he had just understood, to will his mind into believing the unbelievable. But all such thoughts were cut short by the next blink of Edward's eyes, scared and hopeful alike and so _vulnerable_ with John that he wanted to hide him away from the world and tell him that everything would be alright.

He had been a fool, so caught up in his own misery that he hadn't noticed it earlier.

He put a hand on the arm stretched out to him (oh God, was it shaking?!), and answered the silent question that lay between them: "Don't say it, there's still hope for you..."

A moment of silence before Edward's eyes opened wide in sudden understanding. "Is _this_ what you're afraid of?" He grabbed John with both hands now, gave a quick laugh and stared at him in disbelief. "Is that it? Each time you went to bed early, took on another watch or passed me with nothing but a nod... each time I thought you avoided me... that was all to save _me_?"

A sad smile from John was the only answer needed.

"My dear... These feelings I hold, I can not believe that they are anything but pure. They are _good_ , I feel it. You have said it yourself, God's creation is perfect in every way. Would he have given me a heart capable of such affection for another man, only to punish me for it? I can not believe that. But even if you do, I'm afraid I must ask you to let me make this decision for myself."

The next thing John knew was that he found himself pulled closer against Edward, felt his breath against his cheek and almost touched his chest. A shiver went from where he felt the hot air against his skin to his spine and spread all over his body. His mouth fell open at the sensation, so unfamiliar was it to him. Warm, incredibly warm, so warm that one could lose himself in it, and - he could, couldn't he?

"John Irving." Edward said, and there was a sweetness to John's name that it had never possessed before. "I love you. Have done so since a long while."

John's heart was hammering.

And then, just like that, their lips met in a careful but sincere kiss. John let himself fall now, touching beautiful, perfect Edward, _his_ Edward, and kissing him with his own lips! He could but revel in the feelings that he was experiencing, how strong those arms around him were, how soft those lips, how gentle the man that held him. A thumb moved to his jaw to carress it with slow strokes. That Edward should be the one to give him his first kiss! It was the highest of all blessings, for heaven lay in those long forbidden lips. Now John saw that there was no sin in it, this wondrous joining of two human beings was surely the true way for a mortal man to bathe in God's divine light.

_'How wrong I was!'_ he thought to himself as Edward slowly pulled away. _'How right I am now.'_

Heat rose to his cheeks as he opened his eyes and met Edward's gaze. What he tried to hide for so long had filled his whole body now, and finally he understood what all his friends were trying to convey to him when they spoke of their sweethearts in all those years.

John opened his mouth to tell Edward - what exactly? There was a lot to tell, and yet, not a single word would come out. He stuttered some incoherent nonsense, which seemed to amuse Edward somewhat, until he finally accepted that nothing would come from this and simply sighed.

Edward delivered him from the embarrassing situation by pulling him into a hug. His smell was the first thing that John noticed - it was the general scent of the ship they both lived on, but with that certain note of Edward Little that could be found nowhere else. It smelt like... home. Yes, a home with quaint gardens and a fireplace to keep them warm against the cold. He thought to smell all of this in the long hair that fell against his cheek. With a calm breath, he pressed his face against the brown locks and did nothing else than breathe. John's arms had found their place around Edward's shoulders, loosely draped down his back. He found that they fit together rather well.

"I love you too, Edward." he whispered, as silent as a breath of air, and still he was sure that the man he loved could hear it since John's lips were almost touching his ear.

Because Edward was that to him.

_The man he loved._

And - dared he think it? - it looked like he was loved by him, too.

Edward's response was an almost desperate exhalation. Judging by the sound alone, he had carried the weight of the world up to this point and had just been allowed to lay it aside forever.

John moved back, sliding his hands up to cup the other man's face between gloved fingers. The single tear that rolled down Edward's eye was quickly wiped away and seeped into the woollen fibers.

"And I had feared you were uncertain of your affections." Edward said with a smile of pure bliss that almost broke into tears.

John answered with another smile, and it was a wide one now that he finally allowed it to be set free. "I have never been more certain about anything than I am about this."

Both men held eye contact for a while, longer and more honest than it would ever be acceptable during meetings and social calls alike. They savoured it as a treasured little possession that could be hidden from the world but would be with them for all days to come. Then - they would later not be able tell who started it - they began to giggle, childlike and free and totally smitten.

"It is good to see you that carefree again." Edward said while he rearraged his arms so that they could fit more tightly around John's waist.

"I am as surprised as you. My worries tend to lie more heavy than the hopes when it comes to this, and yet I cannot find one reason to frown. I can't promise you that it will always be that way... in truth, I am sure that it will take me some more time to truly be at peace with myself. I may not smile on all nights. But it will be easier now. With you. By my side." The words were getting more and more silent as the intimacy in them grew. He allowed the last ones to come out as soft as his heart would have them, before he trailed off: "Can I..."

"What? Please, do tell me." Edward breathed and stroked his back reassuringly.

"Can I kiss you again?" John whispered and leaned in until their mouths were so close that each of them could feel the other's breath. Edward let his tongue dart out unconsciously to wet his lips, a sight that caught John's attention and did not let it go again. An eager nod from Edward, and John claimed what he had wanted for so long but never dared to dream of.

The shooting stars in the background continued their dance around the ancient sky unobserved. Two men were locked in a tight embrace underneath them and kissed, a picture of tenderness that these lonely stars had come to witness.

All was well.


End file.
